Within Us All
by Abby Beabee
Summary: A short story about gritting your teeth through life.  Everyone thinks about it, so why don't we express our suicidal thoughts more often?


I ran water into the bath tub. I even threw a hand full of scented bath beads into the water. I even lit a candle. Silly as it seems I am still a girl and I love those simple things in life. As the water ran and the smell of the candle danced around in the air, I got my bath towels ready. I set my phone down on top of them so they wouldn't get wet. I set my razor on the side of the tub. Undressed myself, carelessly throwing my clothes onto the floor of the bathroom which is something that drives my mother completely crazy. She hates me doing that... she feels that if people come over and see my clothes there they will judge us and think we are messy... It doesn't really matter that she leaves her bottles of tobacco spit on my bathroom sink. Yeah, tobacco. Gross. Smoke is just as bad in my opinion. I'm on the borderline of smoking.. Sometimes I wish I could smoke but at the same time it scares me to death... Seeing how people die from it. And health care is just... scary. Doctors or nurses sometimes forget that they work with human beings. They become cold. Not that we can blame them one hundred percent when we haven't been in their shoes. Working around sick people all the time. If you became emotionally involved in all the situations that go on... that would be enough to drive anyone crazy. But I'm getting off topic. Everyone has their addictions... their vices.. Some people have a few.. Some people have a lot. I am addicted to food. I love to eat. I am also addicted to the couch, my phone, the internet, t.v... I am addicted to being lazy. I am afraid of living life and I don't know why. On the same hand... I am a motivational speaker to my friends and relatives and anyone else who will listen about getting out and living life. Exercising every day and eating right. I actually do love health.. learning about it. Physical and mental health. I believe that they both go hand in hand. I dip my foot into the hot bath water and swirl my feet around... stirring the bath salts so they release the lovely smell. Breathing it in, I slide all the way down. Bubbles flying across my skin in a race to get to the surface. Something about a bath.. that solitude. No one judging you. Except.. well.. yourself. Pinching your stomach.. Looking over your legs.. maybe a hand brushes across your chest.. trying to decide if they're too small or too big. Things really seem to sink into your head sometimes.. Women can be hard on themselves. We all have our hopes and dreams and fears and insecurities. Sometimes insecurities are crippling. They overshadow to the point where it is all we can see. That one-or several-subjects in school that we could never seem to get our grades high enough to please ourselves in let alone our teachers... the awkwardness and uncomfortableness of situations.. So many people say the wrong thing.. They get imbedded and twisted into your heart. Sometimes they come from the people you would never expect it from and you know that the words were only said because they were feeling hurt.. but they stick into you like deadly thorns anyway. Tears well up.. Spill over into the water.. Silently dripping. Some people become really good at silently crying. Keeping so much inside. Locked away. Only tiny whispers escape at times. It's a talent that comes over time. Practice makes perfect. I brush the tears away.. mixing them with the bath water from my hands. I grab for the shampoo bottle.. lathering it up in my hands this massaging it down into my hair.. scrubbing.. trying hard to get my mind clean a long with my hair.. Always such a dingy color. Sinking to my nose to rinse it out.. Swirling my hair back and forth with my fingers scrubbing down into my scalp. Clean. Clean. Clean. With all these thoughts swimming around in my head how can I ever be clean? Tears drown me again... All the things I have done.. All the people judging me harshly because of them... I don't even have the moxy to let my tears be heard. Never ever ever could I tell anyone about how horrible I feel sometimes. The bloody images I picture. Yeah... those thoughts live within all of us. Not just you. Suicide. We all have that thought... that impulse swimming around in our heads. Some people do it... and some don't. Not that those who don't do it are any stronger than those who do. We all have those weak moments. I throw an evil glance at the razor, who is sitting innocently enough on the edge of the bathtub. Pick it up... those thoughts screaming at me.. imagining what those little pin pricks would feel like scraping across my skin. Everything inside of me pouring out. Escape. Like those screams I wish to let out when I cry. Like all those perfect words coming out just right on time when I am trying to be funny or sexy or even when I am mad. Imperfections are all I can think about... All I can see. They cloud my judgment and I can't see.. I mean that in every way.. I can not see literally.. The tears fill my eyes faster than I can blink them away. And I can't think.. At all.. All I can think and feel is the razor in my hands... My fingers running across the blades..

and then it falls.

Sinks down to the bottom.

Surrounds itself in water.

I sink down.. my nose just above the water. Breathing deeply.. tears still streaming. But I know it will get better. Tomorrow is another day after all. So I let the tears flow.


End file.
